1996

Harry stared at his father. And then for one brief instant, he wanted to grab him and shake him, to scream at him, “How could you have let this happen?!” but he couldn’t do that. How could Harry accuse his father of anything after Cedric…and Sirius?

And no matter the choices Severus had made, no matter how far the horrifying repercussions of those choices reached, Harry wouldn’t hurt the man like that. And then Harry wondered fleetingly, if Remus had felt similarly after Sirius had died and he felt all at once grateful for his friend’s kindness, as Harry made the only choice he could.

His insides squirming madly, Harry sat carefully on the sofa next to his father, their positions reversed from the first time they had sat there together. Harry had no idea what to say. He didn’t think a simple, ‘it’s not your fault’, would do much good. And Harry couldn’t know how his father might react to an attempt at comfort.

Forcing himself to stay calm, Harry said quietly, “I don’t think mum would want you to do this to yourself.”

Severus didn’t look up as he answered shakily. “She is dead only because of my fear. My fear killed her.”

“You didn’t kill her,” Harry interrupted forcefully. “Voldemort killed her and Voldemort gave me this scar. You couldn’t have known what he would do.”

“I knew what he was capable of,” his father spat, his fists now clenched in his lap and his head was up again though he was staring at a spot off to the left. “I watched the Dark Lord kill countless people and I did nothing, because I wanted to protect Lily…and you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to keep your family safe,” Harry said quietly.

“Safe?” his father echoed venomously, whipping his head around. “I did nothing for either of you,” he said angrily and then, closing his eyes, he was whispering again. “I left you. Left all of you there, fodder for Voldemort.”

“It’s not your fault,” Harry insisted, shocked by the intensity of his father’s regret. “Mum told you I wasn’t your son!”

“And that was all it took?” Severus sneered. “One word and like a coward, I ran away? It should not have mattered. Do you have any idea how much James loved you and your mother?” he asked suddenly, his eyes intense, turning now to look at Harry.

Harry, taken aback by the seemingly unrelated question, could only shake his head.

Severus held Harry’s gaze. “James gave up everything he could have had, just to keep Lily safe, and then later to keep you safe. He never once questioned any of it…James would not have left…” Severus looked away again, his lips pinched tightly together and Harry knew he was trying to bring himself back under control, most likely by burying these thoughts.

Harry’s throat closed as he listened to his father’s anguish. His guilt over so many things. Actions that could never be changed. And Harry was beginning to understand just how much it meant to his father to have this second chance. Harry had been surprised over and over that Snape had seemed so willing to make an effort, but how could he not be willing, in light of his remorse? He was trying to atone for so many things, so much beyond just his indefensible treatment of an innocent boy for five years.

Harry swallowed slowly, trying to stop the emotions that were rising up, threatening to consume him. How could he possibly tell his father that any of this was not his fault? But his father didn’t deserve to feel this way, not about his mum and James. Nobody deserved this.

So Harry shifted forward on the sofa, preparing to say what needed to be said. It was, after all, the only thing he had wanted to hear after Sirius. Harry put his hand carefully on his father’s left arm. “I forgive you,” he offered quietly. Severus' head jerked around, his black eyes wide. “Mum would forgive you too.”

His father’s jaw tensed. “You do not-” he began in a hard tone, but Harry squeezed the arm gently.

“Yes, I do. I understand. Sirius died because of me. And Cedric…”

“Harry,” Severus started to object, but Harry rushed on.

“I know. And that’s my point…you didn’t mean for any of this to happen, anymore than I meant for Sirius-” Harry couldn’t finish through the clog in his throat so he said instead, “If you had known mum and James would be killed…or that I would have to face Voldemort, you would have made different choices…you did the best you could.”

Harry had to bite his cheek to stop the sob that wanted to break free as he watched his father, the mask completely gone, the pain almost unbearable to witness and Harry was certain the ache was echoed in his own eyes.

Not knowing what else he could say to still the sorrow, in both of them, Harry leaned forward. “Dad,” he said softly, the word breaking gently off his tongue before he was even aware that he’d thought it. His father drew in a harsh breath. And then Severus’ hand closed over Harry’s and father and son sat together in silence, because for now, there was nothing more that needed to be said.

xxxxx

Harry’s second meal with his father awhile later was a much more comfortable affair than the first had been. Severus couldn’t seem to ask enough questions, but Harry didn’t mind. It seemed he wanted to get to know as much about Harry as he could, as though their earlier conversation had pulled out some sort of invisible barrier between them.

“An Auror?” his father repeated when Harry told him about his tentative future plans.

Harry nodded. “I talked with McGonagall about it last term.”

“And Umbridge, as I recall,” Severus added darkly and Harry shrugged, not even surprised that his father had somehow known that.

“Yeah, she seemed to think I wasn’t Auror material,” Harry said with a small smile.

Severus tilted his head. “You may not enjoy being at the command of the Ministry,” he told Harry seriously.

Harry thought about that. “Because of corruption, you mean?”

“Scrimgeour was an Auror,” his father agreed simply.

Harry raised his eyebrow, smirking a bit. “I take it you don’t think very highly of Aurors?” he asked.

Severus pursed his lips before replying, “In general, I do not. There are however a few who have my respect.”

“The ones in the Order?” Harry wanted to know, thinking specifically of Shacklebolt. Severus nodded.

“It will perhaps cease to be such an issue after-” Severus stopped abruptly, his jaw tensing slightly and Harry leaned forward.

“You can say it,” Harry urged quietly and when his father didn’t answer, he pressed, “You told me it wasn’t healthy to pretend something doesn’t exist.”

Severus raised a brow, his upper lip curling a fraction. “Interesting what you choose to retain,” he said dryly and Harry smiled.

“Oh, I retain pretty well everything you say,” he told his father airily, “I just choose not to always listen.”

“Indeed?” Severus intoned.

Harry nodded more seriously and thinking he probably shouldn’t, he said carefully, “Listen, can we revisit the whole ‘not telling my friends things’ issue?”

Severus raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “You wish to negotiate the terms of your detention?” he asked.

Harry smirked, recognizing the teasing lilt. “No…but I do want you to try and understand why I told my friends.” His father’s expression cleared and he nodded once, encouraging Harry to continue.

“Look,” Harry began and then paused as he attempted to gather into words what he was trying to express and hoping he wouldn’t hurt his father more than necessary, “it’s just that, well, I’ve really only ever had Ron and Hermione during the past five years.”

He rushed on quickly as Severus' face stiffened, “Some years were really hard and I had to have someone to confide in. I tried sometimes to ask for help from the other Professors but it just never worked,” he tried to explain. He wished that his father could just understand what he’d been through but he also didn’t have any desire to share with Severus how even more important his friends were to him than perhaps they would be to a normal teenager. Hermione and Ron were of course the only real first friends that Harry had ever had. But, he couldn’t tell him that.

“I know the adults in your life have been a disappointment to you-” Severus started to agree, but Harry interrupted before he could finish.

“It’s not just that though. Ron and Hermione…and now Ginny, well they just understand things and they know me…” Harry bit his lip, realizing this was not coming out at all like he’d meant it to. He changed tactics quickly. “I mean, I know I can talk to you about Voldemort and you know all that stuff, but-” Hmm…this was not sounding much better. So he just shrugged and said forcefully, “I trust them. They would never betray me.”

“And you could not have explained this to me in my classroom last Saturday?”

Harry stared at his father, the response was so unexpected. Did that mean he had understood? Impossible, Harry realized as he noted that Severus was holding himself a little too erectly as he gazed at him. Treading even more carefully, he answered, “I did want to but not with everyone there with us.”

Severus nodded. “You trust them, but not enough to allow them to hear certain conversations,” he concluded, sounding somehow triumphant.

“That’s not what I said!” Harry denied vehemently. “I didn’t think you would appreciate me arguing with you in front of them,” he explained.

His father’s face went blank. There was a long pause. “I see,” was the only thing he seemed to be able to manage.

Harry, taking advantage of his father’s stupefied state, asked quickly, “So? Can I keep them in the loop?”

His father gave him a hard look. “If I say no, will you abide by my wishes?” His tone was utterly sarcastic and Harry squirmed, not knowing if he was really expecting an answer.

Harry sighed and answered anyway, “Probably not.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “You realize, I assume, that your answer simply means that I will share much less than I would otherwise.”

Harry bit his lip and stilled the churning anger that the statement ignited. His voice was eerily calm when he spoke. “I can’t just do whatever you tell me to do. Not when I know it’s not a good idea.”

“You do not have enough experience to rely solely on your own judgment,” his father returned.

“I have enough, for this especially,” Harry disagreed. “I don’t need you to dictate everything I can and can’t do, all right?” It could have come out belligerent, or at the very least in a tone of annoyance, but it didn’t. It was simply matter of fact.

The sudden stiffening of his father’s hand against his napkin made Harry tense and when he spoke again, his voice was frigid. “As long as you are a student here, as your Professor, I do have some measure of authority over your actions.” Merlin, the man was full of even more self-doubts than he himself was, the boy marveled.

“This isn’t about you being my father…it isn’t,” Harry insisted when Severus looked about to argue. “And I have listened to you, about other things. I didn’t ask you anything else about Malfoy, did I? And, I’m not about to go off alone again,” Harry said with a little smile.

His father didn’t look amused. “Your obedience comes through fear,” he informed him and this time, the frost had melted a bit, though there was a fair amount of disquiet in Severus’ voice now as well.

Harry smiled. “Well, you are a bit scary,” he confided with a nod.

Severus almost smirked. “Only a bit?” he asked, as though in offense.

Harry laughed. “Well, less so than you used to be at least,” he conceded and his father shook his head in subtle amusement.

They were quiet for a moment and then Harry told Severus seriously, “I need my friends.”

And without further argument, his father nodded; the movement however was still too stilted for Harry to be completely comfortable with the acquiescence. And then Severus pushed himself up from the table, after folding his napkin neatly on the table. Harry bit his lip and expecting to be told he’d better be getting back to his dorms, stood up resignedly from his chair as well. Well, he should have known better than to bring the subject up.

And without a word, Severus stepped over to the mantel. Instead of picking up the box of Floo Powder, he reached instead for a book of some sort. He handed it Harry, saying only, “Your mother made it.”

The book was very like the one Hagrid had given Harry after his first year. A photo album. With shaking fingers, Harry ran his fingers over the fine leather cover. Glancing quickly at his father, he opened it and smiled. His mother was laughing happily, her arms wrapped around a very stiff Severus, both of them wearing school robes.

“The day we graduated from Hogwarts,” his father explained. Harry nodded and turned the page, thinking how strange it was to picture the two of them as teenagers.

The next page found Severus, his head covered in a soft yellow paint. Grinning, Harry looked up at his father again.

“We spent the following summer building our house. Your mother found that particular incident highly amusing.”

Harry felt a funny sort of pang in his gut as he nodded quickly, turning away from his father, whose face was a mixture of pain and happy remembrance. “Were you married there?” he asked, his fingers fiddling with the edge of the page.

“We were. The Headmaster performed the ceremony soon after that picture was taken.”

Harry turned the page. Dumbledore had probably taken this one, Harry decided. Both of his parents were in formal dress and again, Harry’s mum had her arms around his father, though this time, Severus’ lips were lifted in a small smile. They both looked incredibly happy. Harry swallowed and turned the page.

His very pregnant mum was standing in front of a stove, her face turned toward the camera, looking playfully exasperated. Harry’s father was scowling into the camera as he stood behind his wife.

“James took that one.”

Harry nodded and then laughed as he turned the page. An even fiercer scowl appeared on his father’s face, as James relaxed an arm around the other man’s shoulder, grinning from ear to ear.

Harry shook his head and wondered, “It seems unreal that the two of you were, well at least that you didn’t hate each other,” he told his father, not sure if Severus would appreciate the term ‘friend’ applied to his relationship with James.

“Perhaps you have an idea why my attempt to ‘force Mr. Malfoy to be nice to you’, is not as ridiculous as you claimed,” his father said smoothly and Harry looked up from James’ grin, his forehead wrinkling in confusion.

“And, why exactly is Malfoy supposed to be nice to me? That won’t help him not kill Dumbledore,” Harry informed his father and Harry suspected that Severus was tempted to roll his eyes.

“Lucius Malfoy will have to face the consequences of his choices eventually. It will certainly not hurt him to be in your favour.”

Harry blinked. “He wants me to put in a good word for him?” he asked incredulously.

“Draco as well, may have to answer for his acceptance of the Dark Lord’s orders.”

Harry’s breath hitched. “But you said he wasn’t going to do it!” he gasped.

Severus shook his head. “He will not, Harry. But-”

“He wants to do it, doesn’t he?” Harry interrupted and then angrily demanded, “Why are you even helping that little shit?”

“Language,” his father said mildly but then corrected, “He doesn’t want to do it, Harry, but given no other choice, he most certainly would have tried.” At Harry’s skeptical look, his father added, “Most sixteen year olds, even Malfoys, do not relish the idea of becoming murderers.”

With a resounding clap, the photo album fell to the stone floor as Harry’s hands went slack.

“Harry?” Severus asked immediately, taking a step toward Harry.

“And what about me?” he asked unsteadily. “Who am I going to answer to when I become a murderer?”

With a harsh breath, Severus stepped closer to grip Harry’s shoulders firmly, the movement absolutely instinctual, “Look at me,” his father commanded and Harry obeyed. “You are not going to become a murderer, Harry. This is a war; The Dark Lord, left alone, will continue to destroy as many people as it takes to get what he wants. Voldemort is a murderer, his soul so warped with evil that he could not even fathom feeling any of what you are feeling right now. You will never be anything like what he is,” Severus told Harry fiercely.

Harry wanted to believe him, but what difference did any of that make? He would still have to kill another being. Harry, not even thinking about it, brought his hands up to grip his father’s robes tightly and leaned his head against the man’s chest. “But I’ll still have to kill him,” he said miserably, wishing he didn’t have to be such a coward. “What if I can’t?” he whispered.

Severus shifted his hands so one was resting gently against Harry’s back while the other settled against the back of his head. He pulled Harry to him, seeming to want to still the boy’s tremors. “You cannot know how sorry I am, Harry,” he whispered. “But you will not have to do it alone…I will be there with you…for all of it,” his father promised, and Harry wanted more than anything to believe him.

xxxxx

As soon as Harry stepped through the portrait hole a few hours later, Ginny extracted herself from her friends, wrapping her arms around Harry when she reached him and kissing him deeply.

“Well, that’s quite a welcome,” he smiled as Ginny pulled back.

Ginny grinned and tugged on Harry’s hand. He followed obediently as Ginny led them to a secluded corner of the common room. When Ginny had settled herself in Harry’s lap, she demanded details of Harry’s night. Wanting to avoid the intense topics he and his father had discussed, Harry told Ginny all about the photos.

“It was really strange to see the two of them, as if they could have been friends,” Harry mused again, referring to James and his father and then telling Ginny how Severus had seemed to want him to make an effort with Malfoy.

“You don’t want to though?” Ginny questioned, looking concerned.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know how much help I’ll really be, but I don’t have any particular objections to making an effort. I don’t see that Malfoy will be able to do as much though.”

Ginny disagreed however. “I don’t know Harry. Of course Malfoy’s a beast, but he does have a lot at stake here.”

Harry swallowed, thinking about the pressure he was facing; the entire Wizarding world was counting on him, the Malfoys especially…counting on Harry to become a killer, simple as that.

Ginny noticed his sudden reticence. “Harry?”

But Harry shook his head. “Not here,” he told her, wondering briefly if Ginny had ever really considered that her boyfriend was going to have to kill someone. He shuddered at the thought of how that might make her feel after the deed was done.

“You asked about the Charm, didn’t you?” Ginny asked suddenly, obviously remembering how similarly distraught Harry had been yesterday in the library and making the connection easily. Harry nodded and Ginny squeezed his hand. “Hermione was right, then?” she guessed. At his continued silence, Ginny tried to reassure, “It’s going to be all right, Harry.”

Harry nodded mutely. Ginny took his face in her hands, holding it firmly as she assured him quietly, “It will. We’ll all still be here afterward. I’m not going anywhere, Harry.” And Harry knew that was a promise he could count on. With a sudden need for Ginny to be closer to him, as his stomach churned in fear and anger, Harry pulled Ginny to him, ignoring all the others in the room, as he kissed her fiercely. Seeming to understand what Harry was too scared to say, Ginny just kissed him back.

“Mr. Potter, Ms. Weasley!” The sharp command pushed both Ginny and Harry back to reality. McGonagall was standing in the middle of the room, looking extremely annoyed. Harry flushed at the stares and smirks from the other Gryffindors in the room. “Well, now that I finally have everyone’s attention,” their Head of House began, giving Harry and Ginny a very hard look, “I have an important announcement.”

“As of now, no student is to be alone in the castle, or on the grounds. You must always be in pairs and it goes without saying that you are never to be without your wands.” As the students were beginning to glance at one another in some confusion and even worry, McGonagall continued, “We have no wish to worry you, of course, but the Headmaster has decided that after You Know Who’s visit to the Ministry of Magic, it is a prudent measure to take.”

Much whispering and muttering began around the common room which McGonagall stilled with a raise of her hand. “Any student found disregarding these new rules will receive an immediate detention and will lose fifty points for Gryffindor.” Silence followed this statement. “I trust you understand the importance of this new policy?” she asked. The Gryffindors nodded their heads obediently, still too stunned to speak. Satisfied, McGonagall nodded as well. The students stared after her as she left without another word.

xxxxx

The other Houses had obviously had been given the same orders, as Harry didn’t see a single student on their own during the rest of the week and on into the new week. On Tuesday, with Ginny’s encouragement firmly lodged in his head, Harry entered the Potions classroom with Ron and Hermione, determined to attempt to get along with Malfoy, or at least attempt not to despise the Slytherin quite as much. Malfoy really didn’t help much with that effort.

As soon as Harry sat down next to the scowling blonde, he knew it was going to be a very difficult class. After the usual lecture, glower firmly in place, Malfoy demanded that Harry light his cauldron.

“You know,” Harry said through clenched teeth as he started the fire, “you don’t need to be such an arrogant little arse.”

Malfoy glared at him. “At least I’m not an attention-seeking little prat,” he growled.

Harry looked up from the Crushed Bat Wings he was pouring into the cauldron. “That’s exactly what you are, Malfoy. And you just hate that anyone could take any attention from you,” he told the other boy coolly.

With an angry swipe, Malfoy took the vial of Wings from Harry’s grasp.

“What’s your problem?” Harry demanded angrily, making a grab for the little vial. Malfoy sneered at him.

“You don’t even know how to pour ingredients into a cauldron properly. It’s no wonder Professor Snape thinks you’re an idiot.”

Harry had to force down the anger as it tried to push itself upwards. He turned to his ingredients, ignoring the insult. Malfoy however, grinned and asked nastily, “What, Potter? No snappy retort for me this time?” With a snort, he reached for the knife Harry had picked with the intention of slicing the Gropfus Roots. “I’d better take care of that,” Malfoy told Harry haughtily. Harry tensed.

“Leave it alone,” Harry said warningly, but Malfoy ignored him.

“Give it here, Potter,” Malfoy drawled, tugging a bit on the blade.

“No,” Harry refused, trying to wrench the knife from the Slytherin’s grasp. Malfoy pulled steadily until with a shrill yelp, he dropped it completely and Harry gasped as he watched the deep red blood spurting form the Slytherin’s palm. Harry shrank down in his seat as Severus hurried over to their table.

While Malfoy moaned in overdone agony, Severus waved his wand quickly and the bleeding stilled. Severus snapped out, “What happened?”

“Potter stabbed me,” Malfoy groaned piteously.

“I did not!” Harry objected furiously.

“Mr. Zabini, Ms. Parkinson, take Mr. Malfoy to the Hospital Wing,” their Professor commanded and the Slytherins moved swiftly to obey. Without pausing, Severus snapped to Harry, “Detention after class, Potter. And put away your supplies.” And then his father was sweeping away.

Harry balled his hands into fists, his teeth grinding madly together. How did they always manage to return to this? And how did Malfoy always find a way to make Snape angry with him? With resentful motions, Harry cleared his desk before his father could start sneering more commands, and then he folded his arms across his chest and glared at the board.

When the class was finally dismissed, Harry was still glaring. He didn’t stop even when his father’s black robes blocked his view of the ingredients list. “You have an explanation, I assume,” he said quietly.

“You assume it’s my fault, you mean?” Harry snapped, not moving at all.

“I do not care whose fault it was, Harry. I want to know what happened.” When Harry didn’t answer, his father said tersely, “Now.”

“Malfoy was being a jerk, as usual.”

“So, you stabbed him?” Severus queried curiously.

Harry glared up at his father. “I didn’t stab him! He told me I was too stupid to chop the roots so he tried to take the knife to do it himself. It wasn’t my fault,” he insisted.

“I did not think it was,” his father said smoothly and Harry narrowed his eyes.

“Then why are you yelling at me?” he demanded.

Severus raised an eyebrow at that. “I am not yelling at you. I simply asked for an explanation.”

“And you didn’t even let me finish the Potion!” Harry reminded his father.

“Harry, we have a part to play. You know that.”

“Well, I’m sick of it,” Harry informed him with a scowl.

His father sighed. “As am I. There is no help for it however,” he said in resignation, which for some reason annoyed Harry further. But before Harry could find a suitable retort, his father asked, “Would you like to use this time for our Occlumency lesson so that you may visit with Lupin tonight?”

Harry bit his lip as he stared up at his father. Feeling slightly ashamed for thinking the worst of the man, he said quietly. “All right…thank you, sir.”

Severus nodded without commenting on Harry’s discomfort. They spent the rest of the lesson dueling.

When they finally wrapped up the lesson before dinner Harry, feeling much more himself, asked slyly if they could skip completely their Thursday lesson so that he could spend even more time in the infirmary, to which his father immediately replied, “No.”

“I can stay longer next Tuesday,” Harry wheedled to which his father simply raised one of his blasted eyebrows and when Harry tried compromising with, “How about I just come a bit later on Thursday?” Severus had informed Harry he would certainly have a real detention if he was even as much as a second late on Thursday. Harry simply rolled his eyes.

Harry was exactly thirty seconds late for their next lesson on Thursday; Severus didn’t mention detention. And Harry contented himself with spending the rest of his free hours in the Infirmary with his friend while he recovered. Blissfully free of any other obligations on Friday, Harry spent the entire evening with Remus and Tonks.

“You’re cheating, Remus,” Harry complained as he played Wizard’s Chess with Tonks while Remus whispered hints none too discreetly to her every few minutes.

Remus grinned. “Well, I can’t have her losing to you, now can I?” he demanded.

Tonks swatted his arm. “I can win without your help,” she retorted though in the next minute she was leaning in eagerly for another clue. Harry objected again, but only half-heartedly. For in truth, he’d never seen Remus as happy as he seemed to be when he was with Tonks and there was no way he’d begrudge his recovering friend a bit of fun.

And that was how Harry was soundly trounced by Tonks, with ‘just a spot of help’ from Remus, as he kept insisting when Harry was demanding a rematch. Tonks though agreed to Harry’s demand and the three of them were soon embroiled in another lengthy game.

“I have to be on duty in a few minutes,” Tonks sighed after she’d beaten Harry for the second time in a row and given both Remus and Harry a congratulatory kiss, to which Harry had stammered something about Ginny.

Tonks had only grinned and asked, “Do you want me to walk you back to the tower, Harry?” Harry didn’t, not really so he shook his head. “All right,” she agreed and then turned to give Remus another kiss.

Before she left, she squeezed Harry’s hand lightly and said seriously, “Thanks Harry,” and then the look that passed between the couple made Harry feel strangely warm, even though he’d already really known how much he meant to Remus.

Harry nodded and with a cheerful wave, Tonks left the infirmary. Both Remus and Harry watched her go. “She really likes you, you know,” Remus told him, the pleased smile letting Harry know just how important that was to him.

“Tonks is great,” Harry told his friend and Remus nodded, his eyes glinting with something Harry couldn’t quite identify but as Remus seemed happy enough, he wouldn’t worry over it.

“She is,” Remus nodded and then asked, turning his attention fully to Harry, “How are you?”

Harry shrugged as he answered, “All right. I really do have too much to do this term though, just like, erm, Severus said.”

Remus smiled at Harry’s slight fumbling. “How is it going with your father?”

Harry half-smiled at Remus’ overly-obvious correction. “Occlumency’s going well,” Harry shrugged, but Remus shook his head.

“That’s not what I meant. How are things between you?” Remus clarified.

Harry wasn’t really sure how to answer that. It had really been a strange week, and truthfully, Harry had alternated during most of it, between feeling either awkward or oddly secure.

“All right, I think,” Harry finally decided.

“You think?” Remus asked with some amusement.

Harry shrugged. “He’s been awfully nice about you,” he said after a minute.

“Madame Pomfrey told me about the Elixir he made. Severus created it specifically to help me,” Remus said.

Harry nodded. “I know. I thought he’d be angry because,” Harry swallowed as he remembered how upset he’d been last Thursday night, “well, because of how worried I was about you,” he finished. “He wasn’t though,” he added before Remus could interrupt him. “I think he’s really trying, Remus.”

Remus smiled. “I think he is too,” he agreed gently. “So, why do sound so disturbed by the idea?”

Harry flushed, wishing Remus hadn’t picked up on that. “I don’t know,” he said helplessly. “Only, well, he’s just too nice, Remus,” he said with frustration.

Remus smirked at him. “And you keep expecting him to be an unreasonable git?”

“Well, yeah!” Harry said indignantly. “How am I supposed to know what to expect from him if he keeps being so reasonable?” he asked, feeling ridiculously outraged at his father’s audacity.

Remus considered his young friend for a moment before asking seriously, “What do you expect from him?”

Harry looked away from his friend’s penetrating gaze as he shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like the answer to that question at all.

“That he’ll change his mind? Decide he doesn’t want to be your father after all?” When Harry didn’t answer, Remus said quietly. “He won’t change his mind, Harry.”

You are my son. Nothing is going to change that…

“He said that too…” Harry murmured and Remus only nodded. And then the Floo flared to life and Harry gasped as Severus stepped into the Infirmary.

“It seems you need to work harder on Occluding your mind if my sudden appearance in a Floo startles you so,” he commented dryly.

Harry scowled good-naturally at him. “I don’t walk around with my shields up all day, you know.”

Harry was startled when Snape narrowed his eyes. “You do not have your shields up now?” he asked, his tone dark.

“Erm,’ Harry stammered, confused, “no sir,” he answered nervously when his father continued to stare at him. Was he supposed to? “Am I supposed to?” he asked hesitantly and didn’t like it all when his father scowled. “I Occlude my mind before sleeping every night,” Harry tried to explain quickly.

“Harry,” Severus said, sounding more exasperated than irritated. “Were you under the impression that the Dark Lord will only attempt to reach your mind during our Occlumency lessons?” he all but sneered. “Of course you need to at least keep minimal shields up at all times." Harry threw up in hands in frustration.

“Well, you never told me that!” he retorted. Severus stared at him.

“I did not think it necessary.”

“Of course it’s necessary!” Harry told him heatedly. “Who else was going to tell me? The first time I ever heard of Occlumency was last year. I wasn’t exactly privy to all sorts of Wizarding knowledge before I started at Hogwarts, you know!” Harry was glaring now and his father’s pale face had lightened a shade or two.

“Harry,” his father began but Harry didn’t feel like listening to a half-attempted apology right now, all good feelings toward his father having evaporated as he lurched too close to a rant to be deterred.

“I spent ten years in a cupboard, literally locked away from everything to do with the Wizarding world,” he snapped, folding his arms across his chest, and then waited for his revelation to sink in. Severus’ jaw tensed.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice suddenly full of pain.

Harry drew in a breath. “You know?” he repeated, startled out of his anger. “How could you have known?” He hadn’t thought anybody had known.

Severus closed his eyes briefly before explaining, “After that night you were hurt playing Quidditch, I forced the Headmaster to give me every detail he had about you.”

Harry gaped at his father. “Dumbledore knew? All this time? And he just let me stay there?” he gasped, tears rising suddenly to his eyes. Somebody had known, and they had done nothing to help him? And Dumbledore had made him go back there every summer, knowing what would be waiting for him. “How could he do that to me?” Harry demanded, a few of the tears spilling over. Harry swiped at them angrily.

“It was for the blood wards,” Severus tried to explain.

“I know all about the blood wards,” Harry told him harshly, not caring at all how safe he had supposedly been in the Dursley's house.

“He was trying to keep you safe,” Remus interjected.

“Safe?” Harry shouted, at both of the adults. “Do you have any idea what my life was like? For ten years, I was treated like a house-elf. I didn’t have any friends, barely enough food and not one person who cared about me! I’m sick of Dumbledore and all his ridiculous secrets. Everything he does mucks everyone else up. Sirius is dead because of him, you almost died Remus, doing whatever asinine thing Dumbledore told you to do and for all I know, he bloody well kept me from my father for fifteen years!” Harry was screaming by this point, his face almost purple from the effort.

When neither his father nor Remus made any sort of attempt to respond, Harry turned away from them, keeping his voice hard as he asked, “Do you even know how much harder it was to go back there every summer, knowing I belonged somewhere else? Five summers and still one more…”

“Harry,” his father breathed, from right behind him now and even Harry could hear how appalled Severus sounded. “You will never have to see those Muggles again.”

Harry spun around and breathed in a rush, “But Dumbledore--”

“I do not give a damn what that old fool has to say about it,” Severus said harshly. “I will not send you back to that house.”

I will not send you… Harry stared at him, not daring to believe it. “But-” he tried to say and faltered when his father brushed Harry’s fringe gently from his forehead, the fingers lingering at his temple.

“You believe I would be with you as you face Voldemort and then abandon you to your Muggle relatives?” he asked, his mouth turned down in disbelief. Harry wasn’t sure what to say. “Ah,” his father murmured as understanding dawned. “You do not believe the first either.”

Severus nodded quickly as his eyes went blank. “I have earned your mistrust, of course.” When Harry would have argued, his father shook his head. “Do not deny yourself your hesitancy. You may take as long as you need until you begin to feel secure. I am not going anywhere.” As Severus held his gaze, the warmth filling the previously empty black orbs, Harry finally heard the truth behind his father's words.